Deep in the Zakera Ward, where the gangs were strong, the drug trade was quite well alive, and there was never quite a large enough C-Sec presence to do much about anything, was where Sicari Velinian felt most at home... in one of the many bars, she felt as if she was in the lap of luxury. It was no utopia, but a strong drink made most things feel like it, and that was exactly what the young Turian was after. She had a particularly bad day from being chased for an hour by one overly determined, fresh-out-of-the-academy officer after being spotted with several ounces of some illicit drug - she couldn't even remember what it was at this point - that was perfectly legal back on Omega. Then again, if it didn't immediately threaten Aria T'Loak, everything was legal on Omega.

Either way, she had gotten wind of a well-paying contract earlier in the week through one of her many informants, and willed herself to get through a grocery list of activities that day in the hopes of making it to this bar in the ass-end of the Ward. It had some strange human name to it, and it was a hole, but it at least had a Krogan for a bouncer. Sicari had to chuckle at that. When it came to a place full of alcoholics and lonely men, the bouncer was the status symbol, and you can't get much higher than a Krogan. When the bouncer gave her a sideways looks, she went on in, instinctively resting a hand of the Suppressor hidden underneath a red and black faded cloak.

This bar wasn't too shabby, it had a Skyllian Five table off in the corner, complete with a Salarian muttering about his cards with a single chip, a Volus with a moderate stack, and a Quarian with what was left. The downfall was the music and the cheap drinks, loud enough to make anyone who just spent too many credits on the "economically" priced booze pass out from a migraine. Sicari, however, planned to do neither that night, and claimed a booth off to the side, as far away from the nearest amp as possible. Now to wait.

She was told the contract broker would be there by eight, along with any others that took the job. She sighed upon hearing of the need for several skill sets, preferring to work independently. It was 7:50 now, everyone should be there soon...

"Hey, don't fucking blame me, it's certainly not like I built the geths myself!" Simbel looked at the passenger seat, annoyed behind the glass of his mask, at his friend and colleague Francis (Tall, kinda chubby with short brown hairs forming a wave on his head). This whole fucking Eden Prime business was ridiculous. "I know, but you did say 'It's stupid to fear the geth' that time a week back." And he rested his case, his entire history class was basically not the story of the Quarians but that of the geth. They hadn't attacked anything out of the Veil since their creation so why attack an agricultural world in the middle of nowhere, a colonial outpost of humans which they had never even encountered before at that. But the thing that bugged him the most was that there was no strategic advantage to be gained, Simbel knew for a fact that if geth attacked, they'd aim to be efficient and would have gone for the mineral rich and industrial worlds in one fell swoop.

"Yes, and I still think this is fucking retarded for them to just attack like this, for no reason. Even the most basic chess VI isn't that stupid." Francis sighed before closing his eyes for a few seconds to then turn his head toward Simbel. "Ok, I'm sorry, I'm over reacting... It's just, I'm still a reservist, and you bet I don't want to be called back to Earth to fight a war." Simbel shrugged as he pulled over to his location. "So don't. What can the alliance do if you're not in human space?" They landed and Simbel opened the door of the shuttle before looking at Francis who just smiled apologetically to him. "I don't think you can understand Simbel." Well. At least he didn't give him the patriotism speech. Ooooh he implied it alright, but at least he didn't say it. Simbel left the cab and closed the door behind him. No, fuck that guy! He thought, as he entered the bar, can't let this ruin his mood.

He felt his energy come back to him but that only lasted for a moment. "You have to buy to stay in this establishment, suit rat." Simbel stopped in his track before turning himself toward the bouncer... and raising his head to be able to look at him in the eyes. Well, he'd have wanted to smack him for his impudence, but, well, that was a krogan. Simbel might have a uber powerful robot arm capable of snapping a Turian's neck, he couldn't do shit against that meat loaf. Well, nothing that wouldn't get him charged of murder by C-Sec. "Yeah. That's usually the case." Simbel tried to casually brush him off like so and continue in the bar. Still, he hoped the krogan wouldn't stop him further, he didn't want to humiliate himself by showing his credit acount or have to bribe him. Still, playing it cool and confident worked nicely. As the humans called it, 'Bavarian Fire Drill', act like what you're doing is completely normal and people tended to follow.

_______________________________

"I'll take that, thaaaaank you!" The Salarian muttered under his breath, calling him a cheater. With reason actually, Simbel's VI was counting the cards and the odds as well as analyzing the facial expression of everyone on the table... well, of the Salarian. The Volus was genuinely talented and was also masked, so Simbel couldn't use his tech against him. Too bad the Volus didn't use one of these electronic glasses to correct his sight, Simbel could have had hacked this to see his cards if he had. That was the moment however when he saw that Turian Gal enter. It was suspicious, she was the only one with some form of combat gear here, plus from the looseness near her hips and underarm he could tell she was a scoundrel, he knew the old smuggling trick too. But really what was the most obvious was that Simbel was using facial recognition and searching the extranet for everyone who entered the bar and she had nothing. The mark of someone competent was not to leave a trace, but here where everyone broadcasted their lives on the social networks? It was a give away. "Alright, that's it for tonight, it's been fun gentlemen."

Simbel looked at the Turian some more as he went to buy dextro fish sticks at the counter and a drink. No confirmed C-Sec file either for her face, although earlier today images of a Turian girl with identical clothes had been taken during a chase for drug consummation, but it was only a picture of a backside. Had to be someone gunning for the same contract he was, at least he hopped. She looked more competent than any one in the bar at the moment and hell, Turian ass made any mission at least 33% more enjoyable. With his fish sticks (Paid by the money of the bouncer, fucking asshat), Simbel went to her table.

Arriving next to it, Simbel unceremonously placed the plate at the middle of the table, revealing himself to her. Simbel had no idea who the woman was, but the reverse might not be true. On Omega where was only 4 independent gunship pilots and of them, only one Quarian which had gotten himself somewhat if a reputation. "Hello miss. I don't suppose you'd know about that Turian ass, would you?" Smirking behind his helmet, he showed Sicari a picture of her own back with his omnitool, shining a cyan light over the table. "C-Sec would want to get their hands all over it. I guess I wouldn't mind either though." He snickered before slowly sitting in front of her. "Though, all admiration of your lower body aside... I'm going to guess you're here for the same reason that I am... At least I hope that you are, would be pretty sad if you're not, considering you're the only thing that looks half capable here..." He lowered his eyes on the plate at the middle of the table and took a stick. Moving it a few centimeter toward him, he stopped his movement to look up to Sicari. He extended the fried thing toward her. "Fish stick?"

The man stood rigid against the wall, his eyes were wide and Lysia could see his hands were trembling, he was terrified and with good reason. Lysia resisted the urge to roll her eyes, it was idiots like this man that were after all keeping her in business, and waited calmly.
It wasn't long before the man started babbling, promising to get the money and that he just needed more time, it was the same shit that they all said and she listened with only half an ear keeping most of her attention on her surroundings, it wouldn't do to have C Sec interrupt their little chat. She allowed the man to babble on for a minute longer before she casually raised one hand with the telltale energy of her biotics coalescing around it. He looked at it then at her and stopped talking abruptly.

"You are past due Carl. I've been sent to remind you of this." She spoke calmly as though she were talking about the weather but no one would miss the undercurrent of violence in her words.

"Please, just give me a little more time." Carl pleaded almost crying now. "I'll get the money I swear."

Lysia stepped towards him her movements casual but intent, Carl cowered back knowing what was coming next. Lysia had to bite back a growl of disgust as she prepared to rough him up a little. This was what she had been reduced to, collecting debts for gangs that operated in the Ward, gods how she hated it. She raised her fist and it was then that her Omni tool chirped and glancing at it she saw the reminder she had set earlier. She lowered her fist and smiled at Carl flashing her teeth.

"This is your lucky day Carl, I've somewhere more important to be." She leaned in close and the man stared at her half in fear and half in fascination. "Don't make me come back here, if you do I'll be cranky and you wouldn't like that. Now get out of here before I change my mind."

Carl hesitated for a moment before his survival instincts kicked in and he hightailed it away from her and disappeared into one of the alleys intertwining through the Ward. Lysia turned and headed towards the other end of the Ward where her destination was and hopefully her contact. Whilst walking she contacted her current employer via her Omni tool and closed the deal, explaining that she believed Carl would now pay up and to contact her again if he didn't. Her employer was satisfied, as he knew well how effective Lysia was, and wired the funds to her account. That settled she walked into the bar and glanced around taking it all in. She nodded to the bouncer, a Krogan, and walked into the bar proper. Several dancers were artfully mesmerizing a group of men, the Asari movements as graceful as always, and a game in one corner was just breaking up. She spotted the table she wanted immediately, two others already sat there and both looked like specialists as she assumed did she, though her biotics were her main weapon she still carried her pistol and SMG and was fully armored.

She walked up to the table and saw the Quarian offer the Turian some sort of fried food, Lysia looked at it in revulsion before nodding at the two of them and then taking the empty seat.

"A Quarian, A Turian and an Asari walk into a bar..." She said dryly. "I wonder how it ends?"

Sicari took the fish stick and took a small bite out of it, then grabbed a napkin and spit the mush out. "Disgusting, that's been in a freezer for two weeks, minimum. And I know I have a nice figure, my mother was an Asari." She then turned her attention to Lysia, forgetting about her previous plan to take Simbel's mask off and sigh within a few feet of him, since she was running a modest cold at the time. "It ends with the three of us never having to speak again. Unless you prove useful, that is." She grieved, in a bad mood due to the previous events of the day, Simbel's arrogance, and a lack of a cocaine fix in the last few days. The last one, she planned to remedy when she returned to her apartment, given these two didn't follow her home like the stray dogs sometimes seen wandering the Ward.

The Turian breathed easier now that the broker finally arrived, a scrawny and paranoid Salarian with what looked like a woman's purse over one shoulder making his way to the booth. Sicari flexed her mandibles in a smirk, and pulled her hood down lower, fully concealing everything except the tips of her mandibles in shadow. The Salarian sat down across from her and set the bag on the table.

"Are these your accomplices, ma'am?" The reptile inquired, glancing around the room nervously. Paranoia made him feel like he was watched at all times. In this setting, he wasn't exactly wrong.

Sicari nodded. "Call me Chryseis. We'll take half the payment up front, the agreed seventy-five-hundred-thousand credits per person, in total."

"No, the contract states that five-hundred-thousand will be split among you upon completion."

The Turian reached under her arm and set two things on the table. First, a modified version of said contract, stating that seventy-five-hundred-thousand credits would be paid out per person. Second, her Suppressor. "We either agree on my terms and we make the galaxy a better place at your expense, or you die and I have my accomplices dispose of your body and rewrite you will, leaving all you own to us and your family on the streets. I know how many credits are in your possession." She paused for a moment to let the threat sink in. "Do we have a deal, Mister Neryon?"

The Salarian gulped several times, mostly from the fact that a complete stranger knew his name and that he had a family. He lived on the Presidium, raised a daughter with a beautiful Asari, loved them more than anything... He signed the data pad with little hesitation and promptly left, cursing the name 'Chryseis,' and earning a few sideways looks on his way out.

Sicari smirked triumphantly, tucking both objects back under her arm before anyone could get a good look. "Oh, and Simbel... delete that recording of my ass, would you? I'd rather let the Shadow Broker collect the enemies."

"I can think of a few fun endings." He answered to the Asari with a sly smirk, only distinguishable because of the form of his eyes. Still, he moved aside to let that new partner take a seat and remained silent on the subject of the fish sticks. He had his suspicion confirmed as to the nature of the sticks thanks to Sicari serving as a guinea pig. Too bad, he enjoyed good dextro fish sticks, not ridiculously messy to eat like... anything else. In fact, he just liked meat, not as much for the taste as to confirm his own success. Quarian diet was generally vegan, no meat on ships, vegetables gave more calories compared to the energy required to produce it.

As Simbel saw the Salarian approach however, he became silent, his VI scanning the newcomer. He wasn't a merc like them, he was people, with a life and a family. Visibly 'Chryseis' had done her home work. But still, he wasn't sure he liked his attitude. That and there was something that really bugged him. Oh it wasn't the fact that she threatened the life of the poor man and that of his entire family, he didn't care about that, no, it was about the payment.

Without warning, Simbel's robotic hand unceremoniously yanked off the papers from Sicari's hand before they could disappear under her arm. He passed the document to his left hand. "Oh don't worry, might as well delete this one if you're going to be the leader in this operation, plenty of time to look at the real thing if you take point, but see, there's the small matter of my special compensation..."

He turned his gaze to the paper but still had her mechanized limb at the ready to intercept any hand trying to grab his neck and snap a wrist. He didn't know this Turian but she seemed like someone easily pissed. He looked back at her and threw the paper on the table. "Unacceptable. Either you girls give me half the payment or we make mission expenses common. That or I'm a glorified cab driver and I go follow you on foot. No way I'm taking out my gunship for pocket change like that." Seventy-Five-Thousand credz alone was more than a lot of mercs did in a year but what people struggled to understand was how the trigger Simbel pressed basically shot money. The twin machineguns shot so fast he had to change the coolers almost at every mission and add a block of titanium to be shredded for ammo since he could actually run out of them quite easily, something that practically never happens to a rifle, and that was without counting the missiles which were 15,000 credits a piece. His profit was heavily dependent on how stingy he was on ammunition, on the worst contracts he actually stood to LOSE money! He didn't know of his colleagues here, but for him a half a million contract was hardly anything impressive.

He looked at the two eye candy around him. "So, what will it be?"

[OOC: Basically if you think gunship would be overkill at first, feel free to tell him he's walking.]

Lysia knew the moment the Salarian joined them that he was a) the broker and b) completely out of his depth. She might have pitied him if not for the obvious signs of wealth about his person. Nothing too flashy of course but hints of money, good quality clothing amongst other things, enough to show he could afford the increase in their pay. She frowned slightly when the Turian went to hide the contract and the Quarian grabbed it, she really hoped that the two of them were not going to be a problem. She was used to working with professionals, those who worked together smoothly regardless of how they felt about each other personally. She gave the contract a cursory glance, noting the figures, before nodding to the Turian.

"Contract looks good. Providing I prove useful then I'm interested." She said with a wry smile.

She wasn't angry about the Turian's attitude, quite the opposite in fact, it was refreshing to work with someone who was direct and did not suffer amateurs. She herself disliked working with non professionals and she too planned to jump ship the moment either of the other two showed they were more trouble than they were worth. She was pretty sure the Turian wouldn't be a problem, she clearly had access to information and was not keen on being noticed, but the Quarian was another matter. The fact that he had his own gunship was an advantage but other than that she really wasn't convinced about him at all. She looked him up and down thoughtfully, she decided that if needed she could probably kill him without too much trouble. Though as long as he did his job she wouldn't have to.

"Do we need a gunship? It all depends on what the job is." She glanced at chryseis "Care to fill us in on what the Salarian just paid us to do?"

Sicari rolled her eyes and, once again, resisted the urge to take Simbel's mask off and breathe on him. "We're getting paid seventy-five-HUNDRED-thousand, pyjak." She got up and snatched the contract of the table, tucking it back under her arm. She then addressed Lysia's question. "This is something I was going to anyway, kill a Blood Pack official, one of the less-savage faces of the gang. I just found someone with the same grudge I do, who also happened to be quite wealthy."

She started to make her way towards the exit, then stopped and sighed. "Neither of you have a place to stay at, I'm assuming? I know you spend all your credits on that gunship you own, suit rat." She pulled her hood down and resumed her movements. "Follow me if you want somewhere dry to stay... but if you touch any of the square bags, I'm cutting your fingers off and taking your share of the reward money." She threatened, doing just about anything but bluffing with that statement.

"I notice how you do not adress the problem of my payment." No matter the amount, no way he'd let himself fall behind on the final amount. That meant either he went on foot, or they found themselves a gunship pilot willing to work for less than grunts like them and be involved with bloodpack and with the authorities, if anyone fucked up. Still, he was smart enough to know that the two of them were of the same breed, people who's life were work. Simbel didn't like his job, what he did like was the paycheck, which he could use to drink alcohol with hookers. "Among other things." He thus answered, not giving any more detail than that.

Still, Simbel couldn't help but laugh gleefully at the extra bit his turian friend added. "Oh Keelah, I'm more worried about cutting myself on how edgy you are, but hey, maybe there's hope for you, you did just invite two complete strangers into your home. But please! If it's not too inconvenient take the whole hand, I have a discount if it's an entire limb." He brought up his metal arm, not to show it but to change some settings. He wasn't worried about anyone observing, no one had Quarian in their translators these days, he himself spoke Turian at the moment. He simply set up a new behavioral pattern for his lib and alert levels for his VI, for despite how casually he acted he didn't trust these people one bit. He was confident in his odds, people always underestimated him, but most specifically underestimated how massive his shields really were and how accurately his arm allowed him to shot.

With this, he followed Chryseis.

Sicari didn't move, instead waiting for a reply from Lysia. "I'll make sure you're reimbursed for the gunship, Quarian." She added, shifting her weight to one leg and crossing her arms.

"As tempting as it would be to risk bodily harm I actually do have a place to stay. Shocking as the idea is I've been here long enough to rent somewhere."

She glanced briefly at the Quarian before returning her gaze to Sicari

"If you need some alone time with your...square bags I suppose the Quarian could come with me." She smiled wryly "Since you seem to be most knowledgeable on this job, I'll leave it to you as to when we do this."

She activated her omni tool and sent her contact frequency to both of the others.

"I'd prefer to get this done as soon as possible as I don't like waiting. Contact me when you're ready."

She looked at the Quarian. "Your call, with me or Chyrseis."

Simbel was silent for a moment, resisting the urge to crack a joke about how everyone wanted him to spend the night with them. Still, his heart said 'Turian' (Or at least his groin did) but his mind leaned toward Asari, if only because not only didn't she not menace to kill him, but she also proposed herself to host him despite their Turian friend saying she could handle it. That indicated at least that she didn't mind his company rather than doing so by obligation, no?

Looking at Chriseis, he bowed, his left hand on his heart and his robotic hand in the air. "Although I find it hard to refuse to spend the night with a Turian, you seem to value your intimacy and be shall I say... defensive about it? I think I'll retire for the night with our Asari colleague here." That was a good pick too, actually. "Still, it's only about half pass eight, do you guys really plan on ending the evening there? I know it's not Omega, but there has got to be something we can do for fun and get to know each other, no? First thing first. Can I pay you both something to drink? As Chryseis aptly nodded I don't have a rent to pay, so I should buy the first round, unless of course you can suggest a better place than this joint."

He hoped for a positive answer to his suggestion, but he didn't count on it too much. He was... different from them. While they seemed to place value on skill above all, he placed it on character, to make sure they wouldn't run away or leave him for dead to get his share of the contract if anything happened. It was ironical considering how he himself tended to be a cowardly vermin that didn't want to risk his life for that of others, but they didn't know that, nor did they need to. Ultimately, he assumed everyone in this line of work was skilled, if they were still alive after a few missions. But were they trustworthy? Another thing completely.

Sicari rolled her eyes. "Might as well... and call me Icarus, it's an actual name I use. I just thought up Chryseis on the spot so that Salarian couldn't pin anything on us if something went wrong." She made her way over to the bar and took a seat beside an already drunk Batarian that was muttering various slurs, mostly about humans and the bartender's inability to make a decent drink. Decent or not, she was in need of some form of alcohol to help tolerate the horn dog of a Quarian they managed to pick up. She liked the Asari, she seemed capable and decent, but Simbel... Simbel was another story.

Lysia debated for a moment whether to follow them to the bar or call it a night but she decided getting to know her current companions a little better would be a good idea. She eyed the Batarian with amusement as she sat next to Icarus, clearly the bar wasn't that bad or he would have left before reaching his current inebriated state. She caught the bartender's eye and he came towards them, he didn't smile but Lysia hadn't expected him too, and waited patiently.

"I'll have a glass of Elasa, given the amount of Asari in here I assume you have it? And whatever my two companions are drinking."

She glanced at both Sicari "Icarus" and the Quarian. "This one's on me, unless of course you think I might poison you." She said dryly with a slight smile.

Sicari hailed the bartender over, and gave him a polite but brief smile. "Turian brandy," She thought for a second, then shrugged, "double shot of vodka." She leaned forward and waited for her drink.

The bartender placed the Asari wine and Turian brandy, with vodka, onto the bar top. Lysia took her drink and took a sip, she smiled slightly, it wasn't actually that bad. She handed Icarus the other drink and continued to sip from the tall fluted glass, she wasn't one for getting drunk and so preferred to sip her drink rather than down it. Besides Elasa was not meant to be rushed, it was a drink to be savored slowly and as such Lysia had found it perfect for her.

She turned to her companions and sighed quietly. "I've had better but this isn't half bad. So what more can you tell me about our contract?"

Jason sat against a wall in the Zakera ward staring up at the ceiling. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe there was a glitch or a payment hadn’t gone through yet. Pushing off the wall he pulled up his Omni-tool and quickly checked his account.

Credit Amount: 300

Nope, still dirt poor. Jason’s arms dropped to his side as he slumped back and slid down the wall. He knew what the problem was, his damn morals. He was a merc now, yet he wouldn’t take any jobs that involved drugs or hits. Hell, the only reason he had lasted this long was body guarding contracts but those really didn’t pay much. This was it, he had to make a decision. Starve with his honor, or finally give in to the criminal life…. Damn he needed a drink. Luckily there was a bar not too far, and from what he knew it wasn’t pricey. Pushing himself off the ground he made his way there.

Walking in a little too hastily he was given a stern look from the bouncer. Guess walking in armored up with high caliber weapons could give the wrong impression. Jason held his hands up half way and nodded to the Krogan, hoping it let him know he wasn’t trying anything. With luck the Krogan nodded back and continued surveying the joint, Jason did the same to see if there was a seat. Unfortunately the only one available was next to a rather drunk looking Batarian, a human sitting next to him would end really well.
Having no choice he walked up and took a seat.

“Hey barkeep, give me a rum and coke.” He almost immediately regretted saying anything as the Batarian next to him shoved his shoulder.

“Hey you pink slime! That seat is taken!” The Batarian practically yelled in his face.

“Sorry, didn’t know anyone else was sitting here” Jason tried to apologize but the Batarian was having none of it.

“Just like you didn’t know we were in the Verge? You humans all think you can just romp around the galaxy, but sooner or later you’re gonna stick your ugly noses somewhere and your precious council won’t be able to save you!” Jason could see this guy was just having a political rant so he tried not to push him further.

“Look man, I’ve got no problems with you. Just let me get my drink and I’ll-“ Before he could finish, the Batarian grabbed him by the chest plate and slammed him on the counter.

“I’LL GIVE YOU A PROBLEM!” The Batarian reached for a pistol he had on his side.

Acting fast Jason grabbed the first thing he could, which just so happened to be a glass of Turian brandy and vodka, and smashed it on the Batarian’s head. Now stunned, Jason gave a quick hook shot to the Batarian and knocked him to the floor. The Batarian quickly recovered with his weapon drawn, but didn’t take note of the Krogan standing behind him. In an instant the Batarian disarmed and flying out of the bar.

With that taken care of Jason brushed the broken glass off and sat back down, just in time for his drink to arrive.

Sicari kept her head down for most of the incident, but looked up as her drink was grabbed and smashed into the Batarian's head. "You're paying for another round, human... but you have some talent." She activated her omni-tool and opened the contract given to her by the Salarian, and showed the file to the human. "This'll pay well. Interested?" She waited patiently for the newcomer to the galaxy to read over the text.

Ekrom walked through the markets, looking for that one upgrade that was actually worth the credits. Vorcha hissed at him as he passed, but on closer inspection of his considerable firepower, grew silent and backed away. Here in Omega, power was the real solution and Ekrom wasn't lacking that in any respect. After closing the last vendor's inventory, he snorted in disgust and wandered onto the main pavilion. Omega's music reached him even from the doors, a low thrum felt through the soles of his feet and a steady throb of music, muffled by its walls.

He made his way to the illustrious club, waved through by the elcor bouncer. Walking down the hallway towards the doors, various faces and eyes turned to regard the drell with curiosity and wariness. Not many ever saw a drell in full armor and armed to the teeth. Ekrom was a regular face among the wards, his skills freelanced to any of the mercenary groups around Omega.

He'd received a vidcomm from one of Aria's bodyguards informing him of a lucrative contract handled by a female turian. Usually the man's intel was substandard at best, but this might actually prove to be worthwhile of the infamous mercenary. The krogan bouncer gave him a respectful nod, seeing the Claymore holstered at his lower back. Any krogan worth his hump would've known the deadly weapon at a glance, the weapon revered by their species. Anyone other than a krogan that could wield its recoil was worthy of a bit of space. Ekrom scanned the bar, the music nearly overwhelming to his finely tuned senses.

He caught sight of a female turian speaking to a human, regular soldier turned mercenary by his looks. Next to her sat an asari, extremely attractive, but he could tell she was trained by the way she nursed her drink. Keeping a clear head was a sign of a professional. Crossing the floor, weaving between dancers with a fluid grace, Ekrom took the seat the human had just cleared after cracking a foolish batarian.

The ugly four-eyed alien in question had still not moved from the place he landed, still clutching his stomach and groaning. He signaled the bartender, "Two fingers of Serrice brandy." The expensive drink wasn't something usually ordered, the bartender opening a new bottle. Ekrom didn't usually drink, but when he did he preferred the cool but stinging drink above all else. He turned in the stool, one elbow comfortably on the counter, his free hand bringing his glass to lips for a small sip. Oh yes, that was delicious. "I don't know about the human, but I am certainly interested." His voice was gravelly like most drell, but sounded like he was still young. Age was hard to pin down for a drell. He flagged down the bartender once more. "Whatever her drink was, replace it on me." He gave her a charming smile and introduced himself. "I go by Ekrom."

Lysia glanced down at the Batarian as he was dragged away and then back up at the two newcomers, her face betrayed no surprise at what had just happened though she did quirk her lips in a small grin.

"And I thought this was such a fine upstanding establishment too." She said drily.

She sipped her wine and savored the flavour, it really wasn't that bad, she could definitely get used to drinking it on a regular basis though she did make a point of not drinking a lot. Little and not often was her motto and it had worked for her so far, she preferred keeping a clear head. Much safer that way. She shook her head sadly at the spilled alcohol. "Such a waste, I hope it wasn't a good year."

She then glanced at the human and the drell, both looked competent and certainly seemed less annoying than the Quarian who seemed to flirt with anything that had a pulse. She nodded to both of them. "Lysia V'tira, well met."

Jason couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the Asari's quick snip as he raised his drink to his mouth. He had to quickly swallow though when the Turian spoke.

"Shit. Sorry about that. Just got caught up in the moment. Yeah I'll-" Before he could finish a Drell sat between them and offered to pay instead. Anyone else would have used this and accepted the offer, but Jason was a man of honor, and even his sad financial situation wouldn't excuse this.
"Hey, Ekrom was it? Thanks but I smashed the drink, I'm gonna cover it."

More importantly than the drink, the Turian offered him a job! He needed this. He absolutely 100% needed this. But... The job was a hit. Yeah it was some scumbag from the Blood Pack and he probably deserved it, but it was the principle of the thing. Killing without just cause or self defense was wrong

"God damn it STOP! You're not in the Alliance anymore. This is your life now, Suck it up soldier!" Jason pounded the rest of his drink and slammed his cup down on the counter. "What the hell, Turian. I'm game." He twisted his and stuck his hand out past the Drell. "Jason Rivers at your service."